Secrets and Shadows

Chapter 4

He really should not have had that last calvados, tasty as it was.

Or the one before that.

And if truth be told, not even the one before that. He’d also drunk a couple of pints of ‘Farmers Blonde’ whilst waiting for the others and then the wine had flowed freely over the meal. But he was OK to drive, no problem, whatever his wife Stella might say.

DCI George Chatham, from West Garside CID, together with Stella, regularly met up with long-standing friends, Inspector Dave Boothroyd and his wife Sue and DS Fred Burbage, who was currently between divorces. Every two or so months they would go out for a meal at a pub or restaurant, had done so for years, the men taking it in turn to choose the location, not always to the approval of the ladies.

This time they had dined at ‘The Horns’, a pub out on Staines Moor, about 11 miles from town. ‘The Horns’ was noted for its steaks, supplied by a local farmer and all three men had chosen them. George liked his well done, char-coaled according to Stella, as did Fred, whilst Dave had his blue rare.

The two wives chose scampi and all the dishes came served with ‘hand -cut, triple fried, gourmet chips. Which looked and tasted no different from the ones George and Stella bought from their local fish and chip shop, only costing three times as much for a third of the quantity.

Stella and Sue shared, and drank, about two thirds of a bottle of prosecco. George, Dave and Fred got through three bottles of Argentinian Malbec, although George drank the most and was ready to order a fourth bottle, but the others declined, so he ordered the calvados instead, ignoring Stella’s angry looks when he ordered another.

George was feeling bloody-minded and bullish, in that sullen mood when the more he drank the soberer he felt even though Stella and the others could clearly see the effects. His eyes were glazing, his speech ever so slightly slurred and as he stood up from the table he staggered and wavered before recovering his balance.

They settled the bill, splitting it three ways down the line as usual, which was a bit unfair since George had drunk by far the most whilst Fred was paying a share of Sue and Stella’s meal as well as his own, but he was outranked by the other two and so said nothing, even though he grumbled about it to himself. ‘Always the bloody same, coughing up way more than my fair share.

Always the bloody same, coughing up way more than my fair share.They said their goodbyes, hugged and kissed and George and Stella walked out to the carpark, whilst Sue made a last visit to the Ladies.

Dave and Sue were giving Fred a lift home with Sue driving, whist everybody, apart from George, assumed that Stella would be driving but he had other ideas. He walked straight to the driver’s side of the car, a Saab 9.5, 2.0 Aero. He loved his Saab, nine years old now, one of the last to roll off the production line in Trollhättan, Sweden, but he refused to part with it. Not that he couldn’t afford something new, a BMW or Merc, but he just loved his Saab and that was the end of it. ‘Be a classic one day,’ he was fond of saying to anybody who cared to listen.

Stella drove a yellow Fiat 500, but he refused to be seen dead in that, in any case at 6’4’’ and the best part of 20 stone, he could barely fit in anyway. ‘Bloody motorised pram’, he called it, and insisted in taking the Saab whenever they went out together. He drove one way, Stella always driving back after he’d had a drink or three, he thought it a thoroughly equitable division of labour.

He took the keys from his pocket and clicked on the fob to unlock the doors.

‘Pass the keys George, I’m driving, you’re in no fit state.’

‘Bugger that, I’m driving. Get in,’ He opened the door and clumsily climbed in behind the wheel.

‘No George, you’ve had far too much, All that wine and calvados. Let me drive. Please.’

‘I told you no. Now get in the bloody car.’

‘Please George, let me drive. Give me the keys.’

‘How many more times, No. Now get in the car else you’re walking home.’

Stella had seen him in this mood before. Blood-minded and wilful, more than capable of driving off and leaving her behind. ‘OK,’ she said as she got into the passenger seat and buckled up her seat belt. ‘Just take it slowly. It’s dark and the roads are narrow and winding. Just take it slowly, OK George? Promise?’

George grunted something, which might have been a yes or no as he fumbled to get the key into the ignition, located behind the gear lever on the central console between the seats. ‘Stupid f*****g place to put it,’ he grumbled. Eventually he got the key in place and started the engine, put the gear lever into drive and drove off.

‘Lights George, turn the lights on.’

‘Yeah, yeah, doin’ it.’

A red warning light located above the mirror flashed on, ‘FASTEN BELTS’.

‘George, your seat belt.’

Driving with one hand on the wheel, George fumbled his seat belt into place before speeding out of the car park.

‘Slow down’, Stella yelled, grabbing onto the sides of her seat.

The roads down from the moor are, as Stella pointed out, narrow and winding, twisting around a steep drop to the valley below. George was driving too fast for the roads, his reactions far too slow, braking sharply as the bends came onto to him too quickly, oversteering as he exited a corner and bounced across a low grassy bank. An oncoming car approached, flashing his main beams to tell George to dip his but he was too slow to react, and the other car flashed past with a blare of the horn.

‘What’s your f*****g problem?’ George shouted,

The road now passed through a forested area, managed by the Forestry Commission, and the trees, mostly conifers, dark and menacing, seemed to close in about the car, making the twisty roads seem even darker and narrower.

‘Slow down George, for God’s slow down. Please let me drive or at least slow down, please.’

‘For f**k’s sake woman, just shut up, will you? George turned and snarled at her, taking his bleary eyes off the road. It was that split second, that split second that drags out into eternity.

The Saab was into the corner much too quickly, even if he had been sober George could never have taken the bend at that speed. He fought the wheel, an age too late, Stella screamed as the car hit the grass bank at the road side at an angle, careening the car across the road to the other side, it flew over the banking, crashing head first into a stand of thick pine trees. George was thrown forwards as the steering wheel airbag exploded into his face.

Stella, although badly hurt and shaken, certain she broken some ribs, had the presence of mind to turn off the ignition. George crumpled back into his seat and slumped down, unmoving.

The silence was sudden and frightening.

‘George, George,’ she screamed, clutching at his arm, shaking it as if to wake him up.

‘George’, she screamed again, sobbing with pain and anguish, fearful for her husband. They had crashed on a darkened country road, miles from anywhere, George was injured, unconscious, and the weight of it all suddenly bore down on her and she burst into racking tears, clutching again at George, pleading for him to respond.

Dave and Sue Boothroyd, with Fred Burbage sitting in the back came around the bend and saw the Saab, crashed and crumpled in the trees at the other side of the road, its headlights spearing into the dark forest night, as if searching for woodland creatures, the front nearside wheel still lazily spinning round and round.

‘f**k! f*****g hell, it’s George and Stella. Sue pull over. Pull over,’ shouted Dave, and Sue pulled the Mondeo as far off the road as she could. Before the car was fully at rest, Dave and Fred leapt out and ran across the road.

‘Bloody hell, no! George was driving,’ Fred shouted across, ‘What the hell was he doing behind the wheel, he was pissed out of his skull,’

‘Dunno, but you know what he’s like when he’s had a few, there’s no talking to him.’

The Saab doors were locked, and Dave rapped upon the window, Stella screamed as she saw a face staring in at her before realising that it was Dave. Painfully, she reached down to press the central locking switch so that Dave and Fred could open the doors.

Dave half carried the whimpering Stella across to his own car, opened the back door and laid her down across the back seat.

‘George,’ she moaned, ‘get him out. Get him out.’

‘No Stella love, best to leave it for the paramedics when the ambulance comes. He might have spinal injuries, best to let the experts deal with him. You just lay here quiet like and we’ll sort it, George’ll be all right, you’ll see.’

He ran to the back of his car, opened the boot and took out an emergency warning triangle and a powerful torch. He then ran back up the road for fifty yards and placed the triangle at the side of the road. He handed Sue the torch and told her to wave down any cars who came down, the last thing they needed was for a speeding car hurtling into the accident scene. Cars coming from the other direction would have a clearer sight and more warning of the accident.

‘Fred, he shouted, ‘get on the phone, get the lads over, we’ll need the fire brigade and an ambulance double sharpish.’

‘Already tried that, there’s no signal down here.’

‘s**t! Right, Sue had better take the car, turn it around where she can and get back up to the Horns, call it in from there. Sue’ he shouted, ‘get back down here. Fred, you take the torch. I’ll do what I can to make George comfortable.’ Twenty minutes later, Sue came back, having called the emergency services.

It was another twenty minutes before the fire brigade arrived. Police cars, blue lights flashing now blocked off the road at either end, preventing any further unofficial traffic. An ambulance followed shortly.

The paramedics and the fire brigade commander agreed that the only way to extract George without causing further injury was to cut the roof from the car and lift him out that way.

Almost two hours after the crash George was finally lifted out from the wrecked Saab and placed in the ambulance. Stella got in with him and with lights flashing the ambulance sped away. Stella held his hand throughout the journey. ‘George darling, she repeated over and over. ‘George darling come back to me. Come back to me.’

Paramedics worked on him ceaselessly but when the ambulance finally reached the West Garside General Hospital, DCI George Chatham was pronounced Dead on Arrival.